


ClockWork

by TooMuchEffort



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Angst, Fic Inspired by Silenced-desires on tumblr, Fluff, Fraxus in a steampunk world, I'll keep that tag, Implied Freejeel, Inventor!Bickslow, Journalist!Gajeel, M/M, Prince!Laxus, Steampunk AU, Tags will be updated, i think, the original character only shows up for the first chapter, yay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-07 00:14:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8775553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooMuchEffort/pseuds/TooMuchEffort
Summary: Freed Justine lives in the city beneath the clock, a large structure long since abandoned, yet still ticks and beats like a heart to the city of pipes and steam. It’s the clock that protects them, the clock that gives them the reassurance to know that time still ticks, that they’re lives are still on track.
Yet something seems…off.
When a foreign journalist pays Freed handsomely to infiltrate the abandoned tower, he doesn’t know what to expect. Yet the most unexpected thing to find is that the clock itself isn’t as abandoned as the city is led to believe.





	

 

_Copper._  
  
_Above the loud noises and squeals from the children playing, a lone boys eyes glanced up, nose twitching as the familiar smell assaulted his senses. The small child’s eyes were near blank and devoid of emotion, the cyan colour of his irises as cold as the ice that would form in the wintery months, scanning the playground and watching closely. He would sit there silently and observe as the other groups and pairs of friends would play tag, kiss chase or any other menial game that never piqued the young boy’s interest. His light brown hair was ruffled and rustled as a gentle breeze coming from the pipes of the school building descended in a cloud of steam; only serving for two unruly cowlicks to stick up further from the moisture. It was warmer than the last one, the boy noted absentmindedly, as droplets from the steams vapour pooled on his pale skin and dripped down his chin. The teachers must be making hot drinks inside. It wasn’t really a regular thing, it only happened on the too cold days like this._  
  
_It was not unusual for Freed to sit in the place where the steam burst out of the complex pipe mechanisms that whirred and puffed at regular intervals; he knew it would keep him warm during the lunch time that they were allowed out in months like december. Silly classmates… if they were as clever as him they would do the same thing, even if he was slightly dampened – it was a sacrifice he made daily, since his family couldn’t afford to buy a scarf and mittens. His school tuition was extortionate even in its cheapest form._  
  
_Gently, Freed cast his eyes back down to his stubby legs, watching the sole of his shoes scrape across grey gravel and dust that had settled on the ground; nose twitching again as the smell of copper became more apparent to him. He focused more and more on every little scratch on his legs, curling up further and further into his own world, trying to shut out the smell, the noises,_ **everything.**  
  
_He knew this day had been coming ever since he was old even to understand what his parents were saying; he knew that the luxury of going to school would never last until he was eighteen._  
  
_But he didn’t want to be taken away now._  
  
_At ten years old, the children that were the same age as Freed, living in the same poor area of the city, would be slaving away their hours in the copper works and the factories; churning out materials and placing themselves in dangerous situations to get money to help their families eat. It was his grandmother who had told them that she would help pay for him going to school, so at least one of their children could be paid handsomely in the future – but then of course she had passed away. Her inheritance never reached the family, nor was heard or talked about since then. And if the children of the poorest families never worked, were or fired or outright refused to go to places like that…_  
  
_They’d be tossed to the streets without a second glance._  
  
_He didn’t want that to happen to him, he had watched as one of his older siblings was kicked out of the front door by his father as the snow fell in the storming blizzard. Freed gulped as the sounds of panicked yelling and knocking of the locked door rushed to the forefront of his mind, canines chewing Freeds lower lip and leaving marks scored deep into the pink flesh; cold fingers clutched his hair as he finally bowed his head, the scent of melting copper stifling his entire being._  
  
' _One less mouth to feed.’ His father’s words rung sharply, further strengthening the smell choking him, his eyes stung as the sharp scent of the metal closed in on him. The steam hadn’t burst yet to warm him up again…now he just felt cold._  
  
_‘There must be some way…_ **some way** to stay on in school…’  
  
_He gulped silently, ignoring the sound of gravel indicating that someone must be approaching him, focusing on the scuffed laces of his school shoes until a hand reached out and rest on Freeds shoulder._

_Unlike the young boys’ skin, pale and cold to the touch, the hand resting comfortingly on him was warm and slightly tan, with freckles dusted lightly on the weather worn skin. The hands looked slightly bonier, and heftier; that of an adult male._

_It was one of the teachers, a man whom would only ever support Freed, never harm him; nor even think about degrading his skill in the classroom because of his class and status._  
  
_His name was Mr. Birch._  
  
_The small smile that finally cracked Freeds face seemed to make the teacher content, Mr. Birch perching on the thin bench and patting the brunette’s shoulder gently._  
  
" _You’re worrying. One of these days that bad habit is going to make you sick.”_  
  
_“…I-I…I’m…”_

_“I’ve heard about your situation, I know.” His voice grew softer, his presence drawing closer as an arm wrapped fully around his thin shoulders. Warming him, like he was wrapped in the fluffiest and comfiest blanket known to man. Freed knew that a few other children were staring, yet he could hardly care._

_“I can help with that, if you’d like. It would be a shame to see such young talent go to waste in the copper works, young one.”_

_“I-It would?”_

_“Yes…So I’m going to help you, no matter what. Justine.”_

_Freeds eyes blinked with disbelief, widened like large discs, before the small student grinned happily._

_“Thank you!”_

_He knew this teacher was well respected, he could convince them all to let Freed stay!_

_A new hope surged within the young boy, who’s grin only widened when the teacher sacrificed his soft, quilted scarf to Freed, taking him inside to get him a warm drink of hot cocoa in his office and to let him rest easy and in comfort for the school day after._

* * *

 

  
_“He is a prodigy! Just give him at least enough to time to graduate and become a-“_  
  
  _“I will not hear any more of this nonsense from you, Birch. You of all people should know that a child of his status will never be considered an equal in the eyes of the upper class, whether he crawls his way to the top with your help or not!”_

_Freed could hear the shouting, the debate, everything from outside of the school meeting room._

_The sixteen year old was fiddling with the long brown hair that he had been growing out nervously as the argument continued. It was Mr. Birch against the entire staff committee – and he was fighting a losing battle._

_The battle to let Freed stay until he reached eighteen, to let him take a diploma and allow him the right to attend the royal academy._

_Throughout his six years with staying in school, he had become more social, more accepted with the students and more involved with the school community – even gaining enough friends to be considered popular. He had fought his way to the top, tooth and nail; to earn his peers respect and friendship and to be seen as another human being in the classroom environment, his school reports and test results were always the top of the school year._

_Yet, despite everything, this time around he was going to leave the school for good._

_Was he really not good enough to join the high life of the city? Were they jealous? Confused? Angry?_

_Whatever the reason, Freed knew he had to accept his fate._

_The smell of copper was permeating the air once more, lingering like a demon weighing Freed down at the pit of his stomach – it whispered its promises of the factories, or menial labour in the copper works and used like a tool, a slave to the higher ups willing to do anything to take risks whether it would benefit the workers or not. His mind was whirling with the worst case scenario’s, the freak accidents and disappearances, the crime riddled life awaiting him for when he inevitably returned home. He felt like he was going to be sick._

_And foreigners say they’re jealous of this city’s utopian ideals…_

_Holding back to desire to curl into a ball and wither away, Freed turned to the large window decorating the end of the hallway – it was gilded and embellished with gold leaf, designed to attract the eye into viewing the beautiful glow of orange and swirling patches of steam from one of the highest plateaus in the city. It felt like you were floating above the world in which he lived him._

_It distracted him for a while._

_Soon however, the door finally opened._

_Ah, the look he’s giving…the looks of smug contempt and triumph on the other teachers’ faces…_

_The older, freckled man sighed and slammed the door shut, that same comforting hand gently resting on Freeds shoulder blade. There were barely any words spoken between them, they never needed to speak properly throughout their years of fighting to let Freed have an education and to thrive in knowledge. Unfortunately, that luxury was going to end, six years he had spent becoming the best student he could be had gone to waste._

_‘how typical…’_

_“I’m sorry.” Was all Birch could mumble, Freeds eyes closing._

_‘It was to be expected…’_

_With a gentle sigh, the brunette stood and pulled the quilt scarf – worn down with wear but still as warm as it could be – around his neck, pulling on the mittens that his teacher had ended up making for him not long after._

_“I guess this is goodbye.” He murmured gently, trying not to let the scent of copper overwhelm him, to envelope him and claim him. Mark him and brandish him as nothing more than a worker at the copper factories, smelting the metal into moulds for the rest of his life._

_“I believe it is.” Came the quiet reply of his older teacher, the darker haired man unable to meet Freeds eyes._

_It couldn’t be helped._

_Freed turned away, heels thudding against the cold tiles of the marble floor as he walked away. He couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye. It would only hurt more._

* * *

_The copper works was hell on earth._

_Freed knew that if he had been forced to work here as a child he wouldn’t have lived to see his eleventh birthday, let alone his eighteenth._

_The teenager grunted with effort, back groaning as his muscles strained against the levers that held the cogs together, growling in annoyance when a supervisor tripped him over. He had been working at this particular factory for two years, more filled out and matured. He was stronger in physique after working for so long, though it wouldn’t’ compare to the amount of teenagers able to lift the boxes Freed struggled the most with and rest them on their shoulders as though they were weightless._

_Heaving the lever into the correct position once more, he wiped off the oil and grease that had stained his clothes from working inside the cog mechanisms, it was a dangerous task workers only got whenever there was a repair needed and either the supervisors couldn’t be arsed to find a mechanic, and the workers themselves were thrown into the death trap themselves to find the problem and fix it. Usually as a punishment for breaking a rule earlier in the day._

_And throughout the past six months, Freed had been the punching back of those punishments._

_He had changed since first working at the copper works, one of the most notable being his hair. Since he was one of the people having to work in close proximity with melted copper or dangerous chemicals within the copper, his hair was permanently changed to the colour of green, the same colour that copper turns when it fully rusts. He had hated the way it made him look at first; trying everything he could to get rid of it…to look **normal** again._

_However, he had learned to accept it and get on with life, even using it as an asset whenever he was on a rare break from work._

_He had even found a friend from this hell hole, thanking whatever angel was looking over him for the quirky, wannabe inventor/scrap mechanic that had practically fallen into his life. It was as though heaven had decided that Freed had suffered quite too much, and needed the shoulder to cry on attached to one of the craziest people he had known in his life time. And Freed was all too thankful of that._

_The smell of copper was constant, permeating and intrusive to his nose; he couldn’t shake it off, no matter how hard he tried. He felt like he was drowning in the smell, choking and wheezing in front of everyone around him, yet no one cared…too busy looking out for themselves to care for someone who could be easily replaced._

_Everything smelled… like..._

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter was hard to write, mainly because I had no idea how to start it. Weird how I've got a whole story idea down and ready to write BUT the beginning. So sorry if this wasn't what you were expecting, I just wanted to write and build up what Freeds character will (Hopefully) act like in this AU.
> 
> Also, If you didn't know. Silenced-desires is an artist who made a steampunk Freed drawing, which led to this. (P.S I've no idea how to link things to their blog from these notes. but just search them up and you should be golden)
> 
> Have a nice day, and I hope you enjoyed reading!


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